His Secret
by Arianna083
Summary: While imprisoned in the woodland realm, Thorin reflects on a secret he has been carrying for almost a century. (Possible continuation, Thorin/OC)


Notes: One-shot, based upon Peter Jackson's _The Hobbit,_ although I am working on a longer story at the moment. This was an experiment for me—I wondered what if Thorin's rage and anger at Elves wasn't only because he felt betrayed by an ally—what if it was because he felt betrayed by a lover as well? The result was snippets of different character's inner thoughts, along with Thorin's secret.

As always, please let me know what you think! I may continue with this, or simply focus on the longer story I'm plugging away on. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own _The Hobbit, _or any characters therein which are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.

**His Secret**

**By: Arianna083**

"_The most powerful weapon on earth . . . is the soul on fire."_

Ferdinand Foch

* * *

_**Thorin**_

* * *

I see it in his eyes.

Beyond the shine of innocent wonder and childish elation. Beyond the stout resolve and unwavering bravery and pride. It is a spark; a dangerous, wild thing.

Unpredictable.

That such a tiny thing could prove to be the ruin of him; I am sickened with grief, for as I watch him now, I feel as though I have lost him already.

Kili, my kin. My blood.

How can I prevent this? Prevent this spark from consuming all his reason, his logic...his duty? Becoming a fierce flame, which no amount of torment can extinguish? Yet I see it there, growing in his eyes with each passing moment we are trapped within in this retched place.

He loves her; the she-elf.

How I curse that such a thing should exist...that I cannot ever be free of it! This weakness of the blood, these ghosts of my past that refuse to lay at rest.

And now, my own nephew has fallen victim to such a fate. It shall not be borne. I will not allow it; and my will is law.

My will is destiny.

* * *

_**Tauriel**_

* * *

The young dwarf has asked me to visit him again tonight, and not for one moment am I tempted to refuse.

_Kili..._

I could say it is because I am curious; as curious about him as he seems of me. I should say it is because I am simply pressing my advantage—that I am only encouraging his interest to secure more information about his kin and their quest.

Yes, that would be acceptable. But it would not speak true of my heart—and I have for so, so long denied its yearnings. To see beyond the borders of the Greenwood. To touch, taste and see all there is of this world.

How did his smile become that freedom? When did his eyes, so full of expression and youth…become my escape?

I must go to him tonight. Tomorrow, I shall think better of this foolishness, I am certain. _I am certain…_

* * *

_**Kili**_

* * *

_Tauriel._

_Tauriel. _

_Tauriel, with eyes that shine like starlight. Her mouth, which haunts my every waking moment. Her hair, that gleams brighter than a thousand flames, and has forged my heart into a—_

"Horrible, awful, stupid…!" I growl in hopeless frustration, lifting my boot and stomping out the words I had just written in the dirt. _The dirt_. What kind of clot-head am I? To think that I could ever form words that would do her justice, and furthermore to write them down in the _dirt. _

How had I ever thought such a thing would be befitting of her?

My mind is nest of crows. Squawking, clawing, and clamoring. Why did I not pay more attention to all those tales of love and courtship, when I had the chance?

_Because you were too busy gluing your tutor's beard to his chair, as he sat telling tales of love and loss, while Fili listened in mock rapture and tried not to give you away. _

True; and I still can't help but smile at the memory, despite my current desperation. It immediately occurs to me that particular tale might coax another glorious smile from my…_my…_

I am overwhelmed. How did the first being, when they saw it for the first time, name the boundless ocean? How did one who seemed so small and insignificant next to its wild beauty, dare name it for their own?

How can I _tell_ her how I feel?

I have until dusk; she said she would come tonight—and I vow; there is no will of earth or fire, sky or storm that can part us.

* * *

_**Balin**_

* * *

For what seems like the hundredth time that afternoon, I hear young Kili swearing and stomping around his cell. Then, a quiet falls. It has been growing more potent, but now I can almost _see _the glowing aura of newly born love surrounding his prison cell.

I sigh.

Of all the places for love to bloom. Of all the creatures for love to ensnare. An Elf, and a Dwarf. I shake my head. A tightness coils in my chest, whether the stirrings of laughter or tears, I know not. Perhaps both.

Shifting a little, my old bones complaining mightily, I glance in the direction of Thorin's cell. It too is no mystery, for just as a warm glow is emanating from young Kili's so does a malevolent fog surround his Uncle's.

Our King.

I recall Thorin's eyes, as he held the key to our riches before me not long ago, as though it explained everything. As though he _needed_ me to understand; for someone to understand.

"_From my grandfather, to my father, this key has come to me. There is no choice. Not for me."_

"Aye, laddie," I muse to the emptiness of my lonely cell now, with the kind of weary sadness that comes from seeing too much death, and too much love lost.

_But you did have a choice, once. And yet even now, you cannot see that all is not so lost._

I could never say these words aloud to my King. As much as I love Thorin, it was never my place. He never even suspected I knew of his secret. I resolve however, to try and aid Kili as much as I'm able. I have no wish to see him suffer the kind of torment I witnessed in his Uncle.

_Never again…_

But how? How can I keep Thorin's pain, his wounds of the heart from wreaking a terrible vengeance on the innocent fledgling love of his nephew?

My heart aches for both, and finally the tears win out.

_I do not know. _

* * *

_**His Secret**_

* * *

_80 years previously…_

Their mingled laughter made an intriguing duet. Thorin's deep, throaty chuckle could not have been more different from her light, easy mirth. He had never heard a sound he desired more; though perhaps not more than when she said his name.

To his delight, she then gifted him with both.

"Thorin!" she managed, breathless with laughter; he felt his heart expand as he caught the unmistakably tender way she said his name.

"It is true," he said, still smiling, although his eyes dropped to where her fingers were gently playing with his sleeve. He felt his face grow hot; and inwardly cursed his own awkward shyness. "My father was furious. It would be a long time before I was allowed to enter the High Temple again."

"I do not believe it!" her eyes were full of good-natured teasing as she appraised him skeptically. "Not you. Not _Prince_ Thorin! Surely, he would not partake of such mischief!"

Thorin let out a bark of laughter at her words, unable to contain himself.

Her smile deepened. For an instant, it seemed a bright beam of pure sunlight transformed his features; but just as quickly and unexpectedly as it had come, his seriousness nature won out and he quieted, a small smile lingering at the corner of his mouth.

He looked up at her then, and met her gaze steadily. "You know me well, it would seem."

Her heart fluttered at that; for she knew he was not a person one became familiar with easily. He was also not one to tease idly, and for all his seriousness, she knew he was teasing her back.

When had she begun to read him with such ease?

His fingers came to rest on hers, which had been unconsciously playing with his sleeve. They were long, and calloused, yet there was something graceful in the way he moved. His skin was a darker than hers; a deep bronze close to the earth itself. Fascinated, she couldn't help but allow him to entwine their fingers together. It was a small gesture, but full of such gentleness she was momentarily lost for words.

"And yet," he continued softly, his face drawn into sober lines, his eyes watching her with that same deep, steady gaze that at once held so much intensity, and yet had become so endearingly familiar. "You do not speak of yourself. Every day, I wait for the moment when I can slip away and come to you. You, who would let me speak without expectations, or judgement. Who sit there, like a dream…sweet, and patient."

His thumb traced slow, soft circles against the back of her hand. She wondered if he could feel her increased pulse, then realized of course he did. The thought thrilled her as much as it made her feel something sharp and biting within the pit of her stomach; fear. Not fear of him, never fear of him. Fear of what would happen in they were caught—if _he_ were caught, with her.

He was closer to her now. He had shifted on his side so that they were laying so close she could see the fine lines that creased his mouth into a pensive frown. This new closeness was like a new world to her; his scent, his breathing, the way he gazed down at their hands, now fully entwined.

She ached to be closer to him; to share everything she had and to tell him that their time spent together was more precious to her than anything in the heavens or earth. Yet how could she keep allowing them to be pulled deeper and deeper, when she knew the consequences should they be discovered?

And then all thought was gone. He had lifted her hand to his lips, and was softly pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Reverently, slowly. As though they had all the time in the world, and he was savoring her every breath.

"It is alright," he breathed against the sensitive skin of her wrist, his lips pressed precisely where her pulse beat. His voice was so kind, and full of such sweet comfort that she felt her eyes fill with tears.

_By the Eldar, how could she not fall in love with him?_

"If you are truly a dream, then I am grateful. Grateful for any moment of my life that I can spend with you," his lips spoke against her wrist, as though he were breathing the words into her very blood. "_Beloved…_"

Oblivious, and lost in each other for the moment, neither of them noticed that they were being watched. Their watcher stood a ways off, sheltered in a crop of blooming trees. Balin, who had decided to follow his prince that morning when he had excused himself early from the court chambers, now stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe his eyes.

"_By Mahal's hammer…"_ he thought incredulously as he watched Thorin, laying on a thicket of sweet grass accompanied by none other than a woman with long, lithe limbs. Her back was to him as she reclined on her side beside Thorin; but there was no mistaking her stature, her impossibly long hair that flowed like a river of deepest honey. In the sunlight, he could see veins of gold that spun from her temples and mixed with the deeper shade, a faint pure glow surrounding her. She was breathtaking.

And she was an Elf.

He watched helplessly as Thorin spoke to her; he couldn't hear their words because they were lost in the forests soothing song. The river, birds and breeze protected their words from being overheard. But it didn't take much to decipher the way he was looking at her. Then, he saw Thorin bring the elf-maid's pale, white hand to his lips.

Retreating deeper into the trees, Balin silently cursed.

What should he do? Balin's heart sank, as though a heavy stone had been tied to it. He knew he was intruding on something he should never have seen, and yet the gravity of what he was witnessing threatened to consume him. How could he not do something, when his prince's very _life _hung in the balance?

Quietly, Balin retreated further from the scene until he could no longer see his prince, or his elf-maid. Feeling as though he himself were suddenly heavy as stone, he made his way back through the forest, back to Dale, and then to Erebor. The journey had never felt so solemn.

"_Oh Thorin!"_ he thought, with such sadness he thought his heart might break.

"_What have you done?"_


End file.
